Lost Ones
by Lady Elya
Summary: And there will be another, because Wonderland is endless. My take on Alice Human Sacrifice.


The first one fell into the rabbit hole by accident. She was stubborn and headstrong and so angry. She realised she fell almost instantly. But she didn't care.

Wonderland was all soft angles and curvy sides and layers upon layers upon layers. It was full of spiderwebs and sickly sweet air. Of sticky mud and lovely sounds. It had been made to bewitch, allure. To draw in, ensnare. And destroy.

Not her. She cut through layers, trampled and destroyed them. She didn't play by the rules, she obliterated them. And all that time, her anger burned. Her unyielding wrath. The first one left a path of carnage behind her, of broken ways and blood soaked dreams. She destroyed everything and everyone, and still wanted more. She might have even been happy.

But nobody escapes Wonderland. She went too far and too deep. Got caught up in the layers, got confused by the sides, got ensnared by the spiderwebs and surrounded. She lost. She might have not been free from the illusion at all.

And she might still be in there somewhere, screaming in anger of broken dreams and lost opportunities, trapped in a story she can't cut through. On the surface, all that is left of her is a bloody red path, dripping and ominous. It is not a wound, for after all, Wonderland heals fast. No, the path is a memento, a trophy. Maybe even a warning.

Yet, it is all that is left of her. A bloody reminder of her sins. The First Alice.

The second one was much different. He was an artist. A creator. And he was miserable. His tender songs called to the audience, awed them. But he was oppressed, wanted out. He sang more and more, sang of depression and closed doors and deep holes. His songs became tinged with madness, an underline of insanity a few could hear. And Wonderland came to him.

He gladly jumped into the rabbit hole. It was his way out for which he waited a long time. For him, Wonderland was soft and welcoming and perfect. It embraced him, and he accepted it willingly. He didn't see it's layers, only the surface, but that was all he needed.

Yet, he sang more, for it was the only thing he understood, only thing he knew. And Wonderland accepted his songs and twisted and spun them through the air. His songs became more than just tinged with madness as they curled and swam and reverberated around him.

At first, he was happy. But as madness was always there, so was his thirst for freedom. The softness of Wonderland started to feel like chains, the embrace a box. He tried to get out, in a few brief moments of lucidity. But they were few and madness was too strong. And so was the hold Wonderland had on him. His once beautiful songs became a lock, and his sanctuary became his prison.

He still sang, but the sounds that came from him couldn't be called songs, for they were distorted and frayed, sounds coming from a man who was loosing all hope. They were broken and beaten and defeated, just like he was.

So he was lost as well, lost like the one before him. But he didn't fight, he was too tired and too weak. One day he just gave up, and Wonderland took hold of him, completely.

But it was too much, way too much for him, as he lost the thing he wanted most. Freedom. So he took the only escape possible, the only way to escape the suffocating misery and safety turned to dust.

Where he last stood blue roses grew. They were just like his songs, fragile and beautiful. And they were also flawed, little red specks creating an intensity, an underline of madness. They were all that was left of him. The Second Alice.

The third one was beautiful and she knew it. She was tiny and pure. Well, on the surface at least. She wanted to have everything. Just a little flutter of eyelashes, a whisper of a touch, a lip quirking in a smile. A coy look, a cute sigh. And everything was hers.

She ensnared people, and did it so beautifully that they didn't even know she did it. She gave promises of bliss and perfection, of lazy nights and fluttering days. In a way, the third one and Wonderland were alike. On the surface she was soft and inviting, young and welcoming. But she had perfectly constructed layers, and under that she was cunning and calculating and ruthless. For everyone else, she was a thing of dreams and paradise. And she knew it, knew how to use it.

Maybe that likeness was what called Wonderland to her. She fell in unknowingly, uncaring, all the while controlling and seducing. She was so caught up in creating her own flawless world that she didn't even notice Wonderland and it's thrall, didn't even realise while it sucked her in, caressed and welcomed her.

She built a perfect world, a perfect kingdom, surrounded by people who loved and worshiped her. She had everything she wanted, her word was law.

But Wonderland was there. It spun and spun and spun around her, closing in. Touching her, tickling her, whispering. She never realised, but she felt it's touch, it's effects on her.

Suddenly, not all was perfect. She was afraid. She could feel whispers of decomposing, smell of decay and touches of death. She didn't understand it, couldn't comprehend, because she was careful and everything was supposed to be perfect. Still the fear grew, bringing with it images of destroyed worlds and smashed dreams. Her people couldn't understand, they loved her and yet they were so enthralled, so enchanted, that they couldn't understand anything less.

She was all alone, as her deathly fear grew. She tried to escape, tried to forget, but Wonderland was strong and she had accepted it willingly, even if it was unknowingly.

She got blinded by her fear, silenced by her panic, decapitated by her dreams of death and carnage and rotting flesh. She was lost, like those before her, lost in the deception that was Wonderland.

But her kingdom still stands there, her green, beautiful, perfect kingdom, with the blindly devoted ones.

It is all that is left of her prideful dreams and perfection, of her. The Third Alice.

The fourth one was two. It was a pair of twins, so curious and innocent. They were parts of a whole, never leaving each other's side. Sister was proud and stubborn, brother was smart and witty. They complemented, loved and cherished each other. The perfect siblings.

The twins thought they knew enough about Wonderland, about it's thralls and dangers. They thought they could beat it. They willingly entered the rabbit hole, searching for an adventure. They ignored the whispers, ignored the perfection that was the surface of Wonderland, ignored the soft silk touches and silent calls. They thought they were winning, that they knew all the dangers and that nothing could stop them.

They saw many things, warnings left by others. They followed the red path for a time, smelled the blue roses and slept in the green kingdom. They finally got their adventure, and everything was perfect.

But Wonderland wasn't as simple as they thought. It attached the strings when they weren't looking, fogged their eyes when they least expected. It drew them in deeper and deeper, twisting their minds and destroying their selves. They got caught in their own adventure, not being the ones in control. They lost, just like every other one, although they never realised it. The brother and sister wandered Wonderland, getting lost with each step, still in their illusion of power, still thinking they were smart enough to outwit.

They themselves are the trophy, for the flashes of yellow can be seen in Wonderland still. The empty shells of what once was is all that is left of them. The Fourth Alice.

Wonderland really is perfect, on the surface. So another will be enthralled, enchanted and bewitched. Another will be destroyed. And another and another and another. Wonderland can never be sated, for it is endless.

**So, how did you like it? Review please.**

**Oh, and I don't own Alice Human Sacrifice.**


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